


Hello, Stranger

by relevant_elephant



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Angst galore, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2013-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-23 18:35:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/929739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relevant_elephant/pseuds/relevant_elephant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eleven finally lets the dam break when he finds himself standing over Rose's grave. It had to happen sometime, because you can only run so long from yourself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hello, Stranger

Some bridges should just never be crossed. The Doctor knows this but when he found one, a skinny little tightrope through the universes, he had to look. Just look. He wasn’t going to change anything, he wasn’t going to disrupt her life, again. He just wanted to… make sure she was safe. Make sure she was happy.

 

He couldn’t, _couldn’t_ bring her back with him, no matter how much he wanted to. After all, he was going to have River. With everything that’s already happened, with how intertwined she was throughout his timelines, he couldn’t change that. Even if he wanted to so very badly.

 

Throat clogged and hearts beating frantically, the Doctor strode down the street, dodging the scurrying pedestrians and blinking every time a zeppelin revealed the sun from behind its hulking presence. He shivered, though it was nearly boiling out. He didn’t want to think, he didn’t want to understand that leaving Rose behind had been the biggest mistake of his life – and one can make a lot in nearly a thousand years in existence; he had some doozies.

He sighed and shoved his hands into his trousers, his shoulders hunching up, which gave him the appearance of a tweed-encased turtle.

He was worried. Worried he wouldn’t be able to control himself, worried that he’d punch his human self, worried that Rose wouldn’t like his bowtie, worried that Rose would hate him or worse, would feel nothing for him.

 

He forced himself to breathe in shakily and stopped. Stopped in the middle of pedestrian traffic, on what looked to be the busiest shopping day of the year; he stared. Just ahead, at the sea of heads. He couldn’t see anything. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He about-faced. His legs, stilted and stiff, lurched him back the way he’d come.

 

“This was a mistake. I have, will have, _have_ had River. I’ll be- happy. I will.”

He nodded emphatically to himself, ignoring the glances - some pitying, some annoyed, some cautious – that he garnered with his eerily calm outburst. He strode down the street as best he could with legs like lead, flowing with the crowd. His mind tried to blank. If he didn’t think of Her, he could survive. If he didn’t think of Her, he could… have a life with River. He could. He will. He did.

“I will.”

An insidious voice, strangely resembling Doctor Martha Jones’, hissed in his mind, _Now, why don’t we believe **that?** Your flirting, if it can be called that, is awkward at best. Oh! And you’re not attracted to her. You force yourself to be, but it’s not working. After the hell you put yourself, me, Donna through and you’re just going to pretend you can move on? Don’t make me laugh._

 

He stopped again, abruptly. The woman behind him slammed unpleasantly into his back, letting out an indignant screech before huffing and shoving passed. The Doctor’s body swayed and staggered, but he paid no attention to the consequences of his abstraction. He closed his eyes, breathed in deep. He let it out slowly, his body deflating to the small man he felt himself sometimes these days.

 

“Just a look, then. Just _one._ ”

He turned much more gracefully than he’d done earlier, his legs lighter, swifter. He refused to consider what that meant because he couldn’t keep her. He had to be satisfied with River. He had to be. He was going to be. He was.

 

When he followed the address he’d downloaded to his sonic screwdriver and stood there, frozen body, mind, and hearts, he knew. He had no choice now. He couldn’t breathe because he’d never said it, not once to her, never told her what she was to him, would always be, arrogantly just asked, _Does it need saying?_

 

“It damn well does!”

 

His voice cracked on the last word and he fell to his knees onto her grave. His fingers dug viciously into the lush green grass that had grown over her, where she rested just six feet from him and yet so very far away. So very far, far away. A sob wrenched from his chest and he’d thought he was over this. Over the grief and the pain and the need for her. Over the despair with her absence. Over who he’d once been, before and during and just after her.

 

It’d been a new body, a new chance, new companions, new adventures and no looking back. But who was he kidding? He was just doing what he always did – running; running from the past, from memories, from emotions. He’s so alien, now – to himself even.

He slumped forward, forehead resting on the grass as he pushed himself to as close to her as he could get. Tears blurred his vision but there was nothing to look at except the fine strands of lawn that had invaded her space, that had claimed her for the Earth’s own. He shut his eyes once more and lay down. He turned his head and pressed his cheek there, just there where he was certain her heart just had to be. His hands pressed, palms flat, hurting for hers.

 

Silence descended, the leaves in the wind, the birds, the bugs, they all fell quiet as if just for them. They had that power, the two of them, to arrest everyone they met. Them, the stuff of legends. He breathed, tried to force down the wracking sobs because he knew that if he started, he would cry until his body shattered apart, all his little pieces falling to the dirt.

 

A humorless chuckle rent the air. “And why would that be so sad, my beautiful Rose? Ashes to ashes as is dust to dust; we could be together again. Forever, just you and me. Just us again, yes? Just us.”

 

It was then, for the very first time in his too long life, that he hoped there was an afterlife. Rose was a precious thing, too precious to cede her existence completely. She had to be out there, somewhere, in another reality he couldn’t reach. She had to be because thinking that, thinking she was there, and could see him- watch over him, was the only thing that was keeping his cellophane-taped heart together.

 

As tears poured down his cheeks, as snot clogged his nostrils, the Doctor didn’t hope, not this time; he _decided_ that there _was_ an afterlife. There had to be. After all, they’d met the devil – recognized but unacknowledged - so there had to be an afterlife. A place where the energy that had animated the flesh could go to finally, _finally_ rest.

 

“I won’t take no for an answer.”

He pushed himself up and glared fiercely at the sky: “ _Do you hear me?! I won’t!_ ”

 

He gained his feet and pointed one hand at the sky in a threatening manner.

“I won’t.”

The leaves shivered, but no breeze had moved them, the Doctor noted idly. Unimportant.

 

His arm dropped, the fire inside him fading. He turned toward her grave and noticed the double nature of the stone. Side by side, he read:

_John Hippocrates Tyler & Rose Marion Tyler_

_Here they lie, protected in turn by the earth they protected._

 

Hate so extreme, so hot, so unexpected burned through him. _He_ was there. With her, protecting her from whatever lies in the hereafter while the Doctor was left behind, left in a place he couldn’t reach from. _He_ was there when it should be the Doctor, when it always should have been the Doctor.

 

His eyes caught the dates. She’d lived to a robust 104, John dying just one day after her. And as sudden as the hate had overtaken him, it fled. It was always counterproductive to hate himself anyway, even if himself turned into someone else along the way. He was still him where it counted and he was taking care of her when he couldn’t. How could he hate John when he was doing what the Doctor had been too scared to do when she had still been there?

 

The mucous, unclogged now, ran freely down his face and the Doctor didn’t want to even imagine what he looked like. He wiped most of it away onto a handkerchief he’d pulled from his pocket. He was a mess and he knew it, but he figured it was about time. When had he ever let himself break down, mourn totally and completely for the ones he loves and cherishes? For the ones he’s lost. Something had to give somewhere… somewhen… somehow.

 

He stood there for the span of universes, for the length of the life of a mayfly. He should go, he really should, but he wasn’t thinking. He was just being, once more, with his Rose before he had to leave. Leave Pete’s World, leave her, for the last and final time. A grim smile cracked his pale face.

 

He should know by now that he’d never really leave her. Not when she’d set up hearth and home in his hearts, sat down, and refused to budge. Not when first and last and enduring loves are never forgot. Oh what a bleak, wonderful life he was going to have. His fingers gravitated to Rose’s name, caressed the engraved ‘R’ lovingly. A hello, a goodbye – an ‘I love you.’

But yes, sometimes, it did need saying. It only took a gravestone to teach him that.

 

“I love you _so_ much. I do. ‘Till death do us part and I’m not dead yet.”

 

He urged himself to go, but his feet refused to move. _A few more minutes_ , they whispered to him, _just a few_.

 

It was twilight when the wind kicked up, shivering the Doctor in his light tweed jacket. His long hair writhed under the onslaught and that’s when he decided enough was enough. Rose’d be ranting and raving that he’d catch himself the death of a cold, that superior biology or no, _get your ass back in the TARDIS or put a heavier jacket on!_

 

A small, genuine smile lit his face for the briefest of moments. She was still there, would always be, if he ceased shutting her up in a box buried at the farthest reaches of his mind. He’d broken one too many promises to that girl and so, he decided, he would not break this one. She would not be forgotten. His hearts and mind would forever cling to her memory, would let it be his guiding light, as she’d been when she was his. He felt lighter, somehow, like Rose was really with him. It was the best he could hope for and he would take it.

 

“Hello, stranger.”

 

The Doctor’s eyes widened as his hearts cracked just a bit further (that tape won’t hold out for much longer) and his breathing halted for the barest of moments. He didn’t turn. His fingers reached out towards Rose’s name to caress it once more, making love to her with his hands like he’d never done with his body. An owl hooted in the tree above and the moonlight struggled to kiss the granite that marked the life of this magnificent woman.

 

“Won’t you turn ‘round?”

 

“No.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“You can’t be here because you’re dead. It’s impossible. So you’re an auditory hallucination. Which means I’ve finally cracked.”

 

A gentle, familiar chuckle floated to him on the wind. “’There are more things in heaven an’ earth’, Doctor…”

 

“’Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.’ I didn’t know you liked Shakespeare.”

 

“Never really read ‘im, ‘till I came here the first time ‘round. Turn ‘round.”

 

“No.”

 

“Doctor, turn ‘round.”

 

“No.”

 

“Is that the only word this regeneration knows? Are you a two year old this time ‘round?”

 

A chuckle escaped him, slight and weak, but one nonetheless. Immediately, he felt guilty. What would Rose think, him chuckling over her grave?

 

A hand settled onto the Doctor’s right shoulder, clasping firmly but lightly. His brain stalled and for a few seconds, he panicked. He couldn’t think at all and then a rush of information flooded his mind. Hallucinations can’t be touched or touch in return. They always disappeared when it was attempted. So either he was being accosted by the night groundskeeper who was an awesome impersonator or…

 

Slowly, his head turned. His eyes caught the sight of elegant, slender fingers, so very familiar, and followed up the back of the hand, the line of the leather encased arm, to the shoulder and the neck and finally, that face. So beautiful and heartbreaking and _there._

 

The Doctor gasped as his hands came up to grasp Rose’s, holding on for all he was worth. Her warmth seeped into his icy hands, burrowed its way into his frozen hearts. He felt he would burst from the happiness within him. She was here, _alive,_ and – so young. And her hands… it was nearly Christmas, and though the day had been warm, night had descended and with it, winter temps. She was unusually warm.

 

Eyes concerned, the Doctor stared into Rose’s. “Rose…”

 

Her lips lifted a bit and her eyes were drowning in tears. “Hello.” That lovely Cockney voice wavered slightly.

 

He turned fully toward her, his arms encompassing her body like they were made for her. She pushed her way into his chest and settled there, arms like iron bands around his waist. Her heat radiated into him.

 

“You’re so warm,” he murmured.

 

“Yeah, s’cause of what I am now.”

 

Arms tightening around Rose, he asked fearfully and hopefully, “What’s that then?”

 

“Somethin’ a little bit you, somethin’ a little bit me, an’ somethin’ a lot Bad Wolf.”

 

Bad Wolf. A smile, a true smile, crossed the Doctor’s face and he didn’t even feel guilty this time. He should, he shouldn’t want Rose to be like him but something new, but he couldn’t make himself regret the Bad Wolf either. Never.

 

“I did die. I was old, I was frail, an’ I loved John very much.”

 

The Doctor winced. Rose gripped him harder and shook her head, shushing him.

 

“He was you. He was always you, just sort o’… a new regeneration, yeah? But still you. An’ I never, ever once stopped lovin’ you.”

 

Lips quivering, the Doctor laid his forehead against Rose’s. They stared into each other’s eyes, spilling their secrets and lives. The Doctor’d never felt so complete.

 

“I created John, so you wouldn’t feel guilty for takin’ a human life from me. I created him an’ the bridge, for us. The best of both worlds.”

 

Pain lanced through the Doctor’s hearts and he squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to say, but he had to. _She_ was too entangled.

 

“But you didn’t anticipate River Song.”

 

He felt Rose freeze. Her muscles, her breathing… her heart.

 

“Who?”

 

“River Song. She’s, she’s a Time Lady. She’s the daughter of two of my companions, conceived on the TARDIS. Which, apparently, makes human fetuses into my kind. She’s… entangled in my life, Rose. I- I can’t change it or there’ll be a paradox. I’m so sorry.”

 

“Are you? Are you _really_?”

 

The Doctor jerked back, his hands around Rose’s biceps holding her sharply. He stared into her face, all fury and golden glory.

 

“What sort of question is that?”

 

“Clearly you’re in a relationship with her!”

 

“I am not! Well, not yet at any rate. She just got over trying to kill me.”

 

“So, you go an’ give her what I always wanted you to give me an’ all because of what?! Because she won’t die on you an’ leave you alone an’ I would have!”

 

The Doctor’s eyes shot wide and he rushed to deny her accusations, hearts breaking all over again.

 

“No, I-”

 

“Clearly, I wasn’t worth the pain to you. You’re only sorry now because of what I did an’ now you can’t be with Immortal Rose!”

 

She pulled her arms away and pushed off his chest. The Doctor stumbled back, his side hitting Rose’s headstone. Rose stormed away, the fierce wind kicking her hair up eerily, her leather trench coat flaring ominously. At the moment, with her wrath and her wayward hair, the Doctor could see Medusa. Angry and hurt and betrayed. Turned to stone.

 

“No!”

 

Her strides were long and fast, but he was still taller, still had longer legs and so he overtook her, swung in front of her and grabbed her arms, halting her.

“That’s not how it is! I would have! I would have if you’d just been a little bit weaker, a little bit more willing to settle for my inadequacies!”

He shook her then and her teeth rattled together. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, tear tracks drying on her cheeks.

 

“I couldn’t say it because I was scared, Rose. Davros… he’d said things. I let him get to me and the words that I was going to say, the life I had been about to offer you, stuck in my throat. I was afraid again, suddenly forgot all about the horror of being separated from you. But if you’d just been a little less confident, less self-assured and more willing to settle for the way things were, I would have taken you with me. And our relationship would have self-destructed.”

 

His voice cracked and crumbled. Tears ran freely down his cheeks, unchecked, uncared for. Dignity could go fuck itself.

 

“I would still have been too scared. You’d want to hear those words and I would be too afraid to say them and then we’d never be what we were again because it would have destroyed us. But I _can_ say them now and you _are_ worth the pain! Even knowing how things would end with us, both times, I’d still have brought you with me and I’d still have fallen in love with you!”

 

Eyes luminous with their rage and pain, lips quivering uncontrollably, Rose wailed. Her hands flew to her hair and she held them there. The Doctor had never before seen such a dazzling sight. He tried to hug her but she backed away. His stomach twisted.

 

Rose looked him in the eyes, hers pleading and fragile.

 

“Do you love her?”

 

“No.”

 

Rose’s eyes brightened at his swiftness, his ferocity - just a little. She wiped her hand across her eyes, clearing away the tears.

 

Her voice, slightly stronger now, asked, “Will you?”

 

“…She says I will do. I don’t know. I never really got along with those who flaunted their knowledge at me, teased me with it: I’ve told you of Adric, Romana. She reminds me of them. I never loved either of them. Not like that. We had an antagonistic relationship at best, really. You humans would call us frenemies.”

 

Her lips finally quirked up and her eyes began to twinkle with that inner spark again.

 

“That's more like it, bit of a smile! The old team...!”

 

Her smile widened at the familiar words she’d spoken so very long ago now. For both of them.

 

“Hope and Glory, Mutt and Jeff, Shiver and Shake!”

 

She whispered it over the wind.

 

“Which one’s Shiver?” He winked saucily.

 

“Oh, I’m Shake!” Rose smiled sweetly, her tongue peeking out between her teeth.

And that’s when the Doctor lost it, threw everything to the wind and chance because hell, “Time can damn well be rewritten.”

 

Rose’s eyebrows quirked in inquiry, but the Doctor had other things on his mind. He yanked Rose into his chest and as she looked at him, eyes huge in her lovely face, he kissed her. Him, on his own, no Time Vortex to mess with memories, no body snatching trampolines, no human clones. Just him and her and them. Together for always and forever.

He was going to be sorry, when his mind was on straight again, for Amy and Rory and even River, but he would never be sorry for loving whom he loved and for taking her after losing her so many times. Never. He was the Doctor, damn it, and he deserved something. Something _he_ chose, something _he_ wanted. Not something chosen for him.

He could already feel the memory of River and the Library fading gently into Time. Her everything being re-written because of one little kiss.

 

His tongue snaked into her mouth, cocooning Rose’s and massaging gently. Their lips danced and their hands gripped and kneaded. Delighted sounds, delight _ful_ sounds poured out of Rose, and out of him he thought gleefully, as they devoured each other. The Oncoming Storm and the Bad Wolf. It was practically fate. If he believed in that sort of thing.

 

Rose bit his bottom lip and then soothed the sting with her tongue, but the move got her desired outcome, the Doctor knew. He pulled away slowly, their lips clinging together like lovers, then separated with a small _pop!_

 

“Sorry. I have a big brain. It’s hard _not_ to think.”

 

She winked at him and giggled. Actually, honest to Rassilon, giggled. The Doctor grinned. He had the power to make Rose all girly-giggly!

 

Smiling wider than he had in a long while, he grabbed her hand and asked, “Ready to go?”

 

She nodded, hand curling around his perfectly.

 

“What about the River paradox?”

 

He paused, tipping his head to the side and soaking Rose in.

 

“We’ll deal with it when it comes. But I won’t give you up. I won’t. Not again and not ever.”

 

She beamed at him and the Doctor knew he’d made the right decision. For him, for her. He wasn’t quite so sure about the universe just yet and he was completely sure it wasn’t for River, Amy, and Rory. But for him and Rose, it was perfect.

He glanced down at his universe, her head resting on his shoulder and a bag – one the Doctor couldn’t for the life of him figure where she’d been keeping - dangling from hers. A contented smile graced his features again. Maybe he did believe in fate. Because he was now completely certain fate was just one giant, bad wolf.

 

Rain started pelting down heavily just as the doors to the TARDIS closed behind Rose and the Doctor. He watched as she looked around in wonder.

 

“Do you like it?”

 

Glancing at him, she whispered giddily, “ ‘S’like a candy store!”

 

The TARDIS hummed her pleasure, both at the comparison and at Rose being home. The Doctor said, “She –“

 

Rose twirled around and landed on the jump seat. “I know. I heard.”

 

She tapped her temple and the Doctor could have sworn her eyes shown with a brief burst of gold. He nodded. Of course she knew. As he set the coordinates, Rose just gazed at him.

 

“Once we leave, the bridge’ll seal itself up. No harm done.”

 

A grin crossed his face as the Doctor glanced up at Rose. “I sort of figured you’d do that. Had quite a few plans up your sleeve when you were all ‘tEEEEErrible cosmic power, eeeeety-bitty living space.’”

 

The Doctor hit his goal. Her tongue-smile peeked out again: “I thought it was the last body obsessed with Disney movies.”

 

The Doctor looked mock-sternly at Rose, pointing his sonic screwdriver. “Hey! Disney movies are cool.”

 

Rose’s eyebrows jumped. The Doctor sniffed and straightened his jacket with a jerk.

 

“That’s right. I say things are cool, now.”

 

Rose giggled, _again!_ , and the Doctor danced about lightheadedly.

 

He saw out of the corner of his eye as she sat up and ran her hand along the controls on the console. The TARDIS sighed like a cat being stroked. Rose smiled fondly.

 

“You’ve got ketchup, mustard, n’ vinegar dispensers!”

 

“Yeah, I’ve never used them. Never had the urge to have chips with anyone.” Their eyes caught and they smiled whimsically. “Guess the old girl knew something I didn’t.”

 

It wasn’t quite a question, but the Doctor would like to know whether Rose knew how connected she and the TARDIS were. Rose only smiled mysteriously. Which was an answer in and of itself. But he wouldn’t push her. She’d tell him the extent of her link to the TARDIS in her own time. In the meantime, the Doctor had something else on his mind.

 

He patted himself down, straightened his bowtie, and ruffled his hair. He turned to Rose and cleared his throat, though she’d already been watching him with a charmed look on her face.

 

“Now, Rose, be honest. How do I look? Mind, it’s not just the body, but the suit of clothes.”

Speech over, he spread his arms and waited for the verdict. Which was not what he was expecting. She burst out laughing. Her breasts jiggled wonderfully, her hair – longer and more natural than he’d ever seen it – bounced energetically, and her face lit up like the sun.

 

The Doctor would have enjoyed the view if he wasn’t so aghast.

 

“You don’t like my bowtie?! Bowties are cool!” 

**Author's Note:**

> A bit of OOC for Eleven, but that's to be expected when one is writing him even *thinking* about Rose. Takes place somewhere in season 5, let's say, as I haven't watched more than a handful of episodes with Eleven - which is too bad. He's a great Doctor. I just can't stand River - she just ruins the entire series for me.
> 
> As usual, Doctor Who and any recognizable characters are not mine, nor do I make any money off these scrbblings.


End file.
